


Closure II - Off Her Meds

by Leblanc1 (orphan_account)



Category: Homeland
Genre: Another Letter, F/M, Near Future, Speculation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-21
Updated: 2016-05-21
Packaged: 2018-06-09 18:35:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,231
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6918466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/Leblanc1
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Inspired by "Closure" by SourCherryBlossom, a beautifully composed, sensitive portrait of Carrie's feelings about Jonas after returning home.</p><p>This is not that. This is Crazy Carrie (whom I LOVE) unleashed and off her meds, writing to Jonas for closure.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Closure II - Off Her Meds

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SourCherryBlossom](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SourCherryBlossom/gifts).



_Dear Jonas,_  
_I thought of you today. My doctor took me off lithium for a couple of days. She's trying a new medication that will kick in tomorrow._

_It's not been since our time in the woods that I've been this unleashed. What a strange time that was...poor thing, you were a trembling, nervous rabbit in the face of a determined fox who happily teased, tortured and ate you for dinner. Yet, sadly, you were a pretty unsatisfying meal for me, all in all._

_It was my fault. I overestimated you in every way. You were never a worthy match. It's that simple.  
_

_So, enclosed is your sweatshirt. I've organized every corner of my new condo. I'm making room for Peter Quinn. I threw your hoodie into the trash pile but then reconsidered. I briefly thought about keeping it as a souvenir of our rather pointless years together but then I thought 'nah', you should have it. I've no need for remembrances._

_Perhaps that's too harsh. Our years together weren't exactly pointless - they helped get me here. They were delusional. My delusion. I wanted to create some kind of postmodern Brady Bunch. (Though, honestly, Mike Brady might have been more entertaining than you were. You know, Robert Reed being gay and all.)_

_You checked the boxes for me at the right time, Jonas. You were my type: stable, employed, a ginger, and utterly boring. Funny, my type has been turned on its head. Quinn is pretty unstable (he detests rehab), unemployed (for now), a brunette, and never boring. Never. Not for a single second._

_This is what you taught me, Jonas:_

_I am unashamed to be the woman who ran into the subway to get the bad guys; who would have thrown herself on a sarin bomb to save the people of your fuckin' city; who has taken down scores of terrorists; who has uncovered plots so subversive and destructive it would astound your uninventive mind._

_How do I live with myself, Jonas? Because I am one hundred percent certain that for every person I killed with drones, I saved thousands more. That's how._

_Have you saved any lives recently, Jonas? Ever? While preparing your legal briefs defending these criminals, these sociopaths, whom you coddle? Does it give you fulfillment to find loopholes for terrorists and return them to the streets so they can go on killing everyone and everything you hold dear?_

_Didn't think so._

_You, my obtuse ginger German, are complicit in the terror itself._

_Consider, if you can, Jonas, whether your work has any meaning at all. I'm back at the CIA now and you know what? I sleep like a baby knowing that what I do matters; I know that there is some justice in this world and I play a part in making that happen.  
_

_Do you want to know why I do this work? This work of which you judge in your socialist, Euro-snobbery? So you and the arrogant masses of which you are a part can take your lifestyle for granted. So you can sip your coffee in the morning while reading a newspaper with real facts and opinions; so you can worship the God of your choice (or choose not to); so your son can listen to Jay-Z and one day go to school and read Salman Rushdie._

_I run into subways so you can choose the muggle job you have, vote (or not), and have your daughter educated in schools._

_I take down terrorists so you have the freedom to pick up a bottle of Becks on your way home from work and watch porn when you climb into bed...if you're so inclined, though I'm clear you won't. Creative lovemaking was never your thing._

_We may be out of our fucking minds - Quinn and I - but understand that you don't so much as take a shit in the morning without the work that people like us do on your behalf._

_So you're welcome. You're fucking welcome._

_And if all of that sounds pretty dramatic, let's talk about love._

_Have you ever loved someone so much that you'd die for them? Didn't think so. That sort of love takes a kind of depth and imagination for which you don't possess. And you never will._

_Quinn would die for me and I for him. It's epic and sweeping and has been, on occasion, tragic. The Shakespearean kind._

_And it's scary as fuck, this kind of love. I ducked the love he offered for a long, long time. In fact, I settled into the prosaic, conditional type you doled out in an effort to ignore who I am; to avoid thinking about how I'm meant to love and be loved._

_(I even used hot rollers and got blow outs for you. Jesus. What the fuck was I thinking?)_

_Rest assured we're making up for lost time, Quinn and I._

_Quinn knows me so well that he reads my thoughts and finishes my sentences. He encourages me to do the work I love because he knows it's as essential to me as the air I breathe. And soon he'll be right along side me again, keeping me safe while I do the same for him._

_Not for nothing, Jonas, he's not a lousy lay. He's spectacular. He doesn't try to strangle me with his tongue or make me cringe with drooling kisses on my neck._

_Do you remember the first time we had sex, Jonas? I faked it. All that heaving and groaning? A complete act. It's just as well that we didn't do it for another week because you had the sniffles...I was secretly dreading it._

_When Quinn and I finally did it - on the dining table because we didn't have the patience to go upstairs - he barely touched me and I came. Just like that. That's how much I wanted him. When we finally made it to the bedroom we stayed there for two days and nights stumbling out to the kitchen for sustenance before diving back in for more._

_Compare and contrast._

_And it's still not enough. When I picked him up at the hospital last week to bring him home for good, we found a broom closet and did it against the wall because the forty-five minute drive to my place was too long to wait._

_Oh, and he's big, Jonas. When he's inside me I swear sometimes it feels like he's going to split me in two - in a good way. In a VERY good way. There’s none of this slipping out action that happened with you._

_So there you have it. Here's your sweatshirt and everything that went along with it: mundane love, boring conversations, and shitty sex._

_Live your life, Jonas, and know that you're able to do it because of Quinn and I and the thousands of others who bravely work to ensure your freedom._

_I thank God every day for our break up. I am not the woman I was with you. Today I_ _proudly battle the bad guys. I am loved to the depths of my very soul and I'm learning to love with the same kind of abandon. I am having orgasms that blow my brain. And I am laughing and fighting with a man who will never ask me to be someone I am not._

_I am home.  
_

_Be well._

_Carrie_

**Author's Note:**

> I sound like a Republican Neo-con in this...but it worked for the purposes of this silly thing.
> 
> Oh, and Frangi, I wrote this on my phone from the airplane...
> 
> Please comment - of any kind. I love your feedback.


End file.
